REVIEW: Death and The Ploughman at Arnos Vale Cemetery, by Steve Wright, 4/5

ANIGHT-time ramble around a sprawling Victorian cemetery in the company of Death himself (herself, actually). Does this appeal? Chances are that your answer will be a pretty emphatic one either way.

Anyone, though, who likes a dab of nocturnal atmosphere laced with some chewy philosophy about life, death and man's place in this world, will get plenty from this richly atmospheric walkabout piece by Bristol's Mechanical Animal Corporation.

The piece draws on a 1401 poem by Johannes von Saaz, a clerk living in German-speaking Bohemia. The poem is a discussion between a grieving ploughman who has just lost his beloved wife, and Death – who has taken her in her prime.

The Mechanicals' brilliant idea is to begin this dialogue within the walls of Arnos Vale's sparse, airy Anglican Chapel, and then to continue it – with their well-wrapped-up audience in tow – around the cemetery, stopping off at three beautifully lit locations for the two to continue their sharp, thought-provoking exchange of views.

The physical setting, and the audiences' ongoing experience of it, is a key part of the evening's appeal. The actual premise of the play may seem at first grasp less captivating – but that, too, wins you over as you stroll the cemetery's dusky arcades.

For one thing, von Saaz's dialogue, and its fresh, lively translation by Michael West, is a pleasure to hear – the grieving ploughman and his maker get down to some captivating verbal sparring around death and its apparent randomness and injustice, and humanity and its place in the grand scheme.

Death, it turns out, has some crisp, clear-cut answers for our woebegone hero, which manage to be both thoroughly sobering yet oddly consoling.

Indeed, some of her points, such as man's rapacious treatment of our planet, sound just as urgent six centuries on. And, though you might not be expecting them, there are plenty of laughs too.

Rounding off the evening's unique appeal are some fine performances – Paul Rattray's Ploughman is grief-stricken, yet slowly able to absorb some of Death's bittersweet arguments; Helen Millar – sinuous, self-assured, ever-ready with a putdown – is captivating as the Reaper; and a community chorus, directed by Verity Standen, provide some hugely atmospheric backdrops, both spoken and sung.

A fascinating atmospheric evening. And, like the Ploughman, you may just come away more reconciled to the fate that waits us all.